


Unspoken

by seimaisin



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-27
Updated: 2003-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel came back different. Sam knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Set early season 7.

Daniel came back different. Sam felt it in her gut – had since the moment she saw him, tried to touch him, and instead found herself locked in a steely blue-eyed stare that both chilled her and burned down to her toes. Even after his memory returned, when he adopted the shell of the Daniel they'd known and loved, he was different. His manner was off. Eventually, she was able to relax and enjoy his company – this was Daniel, after all, her beloved friend, returned to her by some unexplained miracle – but, every so often, she'd catch a glimpse of him when he thought no one was looking. At those moments, the mask dropped, and his face changed. At those moments, she remembered that he spent a year in a place none of them could even imagine. Maybe it was a struggle with the gaps in his memory, maybe it was his admittedly overdeveloped sense of guilt … but, somehow, Sam sensed a fundamental change.

She didn't know if she was the only one who noticed. The Colonel was always funny about these things – sometimes, he picked up on details that everyone else missed; other times, the most obvious things whizzed right over his head. He seemed to be so happy to have his team back in one piece that she was afraid to broach the subject. Teal'c was … inscrutable, as usual. She tentatively approached Janet about it, but all the doctor could tell her was that Daniel was Daniel in all ways physical. So, she was on her own.

It was in his eyes, she decided. They showed more than he intended, more than he consciously realized, she'd bet. They looked at her differently. She decided very quickly that she didn't want to analyze how they looked at her. Something dangerous lurked in those eyes. Perhaps, something dangerous only to her.

***

"Sam, I need furniture."

"Daniel?" Sam turned over in bed and squinted at the clock. 8:00. On her day off. "I gave you furniture," she mumbled. A couch and an end table, liberated from her basement. Jack contributed a futon and a microwave. His new apartment was sparse, but livable. She pressed the phone between her ear and the pillow, unwilling to move. "You need more?"

"The futon gives me a backache. I'm going shopping today. Will you come with me?"

"Do I have to?"

"Well, no …"

He was pouting. She could see it, even from miles away. At least that much hadn't changed. "Give me an hour," she sighed. "Why are you awake this early, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep." His voice was immediately more cheerful. "Thanks, Sam. I'll buy you lunch for this."

"You bet you will." She hung up as quickly as politeness would allow. Hearing his voice like that, immediately upon waking, while she was still cocooned in blankets and drowsy, made her uncomfortable. His voice held a deeper undertone – had it always sounded like that, or was it another difference? – that snaked down her spine and arched her back. She was too warm. She was too susceptible to odd thoughts.

She needed a shower, coffee, and clothing. Then, she could face Daniel and the prospect of shopping.

 

***

There was an argument about whose car to drive. Daniel had leased an SUV, which she teased him for. "Gas guzzling monster, polluting the environment."

"Oh, like your choices are more environmental?"

"Hey, even if you add the size of the tanks on my car and my bike, you still wouldn't get the capacity of that pile of scrap metal."

She couldn't figure out what he needed with a car that size, but he liked it, so she let it go. Now, he pointed to the size as an advantage. "If I buy anything today, how could I ever get it home in your car?" He had a point, so she found herself in the passenger seat of the great big boat, rather than in the drivers seat of her own vehicle. It made her itchy. She loved driving, loved the freedom and speed and control. Watching someone else drive made her feel like she was relinquishing her own power. Daniel, in particular, used to drive her insane – he was the kind of driver who would make a full stop at a stop sign, even when there was no one else at the intersection, and then forget he was supposed to drive again as he carried on a conversation. Usually, she just refrained from starting conversations in the car, preferring instead to fiddle with the radio dial and reprogram his stations for the fun of hearing him bitch at her.

This time, though, he slapped her hand away from the dial even as he pulled out of his parking lot. "I just figured out how to program this thing, leave them alone."

"Oh, come on," she cajoled, grinning. "I won't change your buttons, I promise, but if you're going to make me go shopping with you, I get to pick the music."

"Keep it quiet?" he pleaded. "I haven't had enough coffee yet to handle loud."

"You big wuss," she said affectionately, tuning to the classic rock station and setting the volume at a respectable level. "Does this mean we get to stop at Starbucks?"

"What, there was a doubt?"

As he drove, Sam leaned back in her seat and watched Daniel out of the corner of her eye. He held his Starbucks cup between his legs, a scene which would have once been comedy gold. (Or, alternately, life-threatening, like the time he dumped an entire latte into his lap and ran his car off the road. Luckily, it was near the mountain, on a grassy plot of land, and she and Jack had been able to come out and push him back onto the road. He escaped with a burn on his leg, a bump on his head, and several weeks of merciless teasing.) He was, at times, the classic absent-minded professor – able to excavate and inspect the most delicate of artifacts with a care and precision worthy of a surgeon, but a jittery mess when it came to more social skills. Now, though, he turned a corner and picked up his coffee with one smooth motion. He lifted the cup to his lips and looked sideways at her, obviously proud of himself for the smoothness of the motion. Sam resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

Everything was smoother – his motion, his driving; his concentration levels were at an all-time high for events happening in the present that did not involve immediate threats to their lives. Just one more way he was different. On one hand, she rather missed absent-minded Daniel. He was comfortable. This Daniel, maybe not.

On the other hand, she appreciated not having to grasp the door handle in abject terror every time he made a left.

***

"Daniel, that is so ugly, it hurts."

"I like the color!"

"Which one? It has twelve!"

"The landlady is going to let me paint the walls gray. I think this will go well with it."

Sam squinted and looked at the couch again. It was covered in a psychedelic whirl of maroon, olive green, black, and gray – peering too hard at it made her dizzy. But, when she stepped back, she could see that perhaps it wasn't the ugliest piece of furniture she'd ever seen. (At the very least, her Great-Aunt Florence's faded pink paisley loveseat held that distinction.) She looked at Daniel and shrugged. "It's your apartment, and your money."

He purchased the couch and a coffee table, and they sat on the couch as the salesman wrote up the sale. "Where did my furniture go, anyway?" Daniel asked suddenly.

Sam winced internally. Up until that point, he had avoided asking many unnecessary questions about the year he was gone, and they pointedly avoided bringing up the topic. It hurt. "Well, we sold it."

"All of it?"

"I think Janet took a couple of your bookcases. Ask her."

He shrugged. "She can have them, I guess. I don't have that many books any more, either."

This time, she visibly winced. All the books in his office on the base had been preserved – General Hammond had declared that anything Daniel was working on could possibly be valuable, and therefore was to remain intact. The books in his apartment, however, were a different story. When they closed his apartment, Sam boxed them all up and took the boxes home with her. They sat in her basement for more than six months, until one morning, she'd decided her personal karma needed cleansing – Daniel was gone, she thought, and she needed to move on. Before she could change her mind, she called a book dealer who specialized in antique books and academic textbooks. By the end of the day, the boxes were gone. Sam didn't feel cleansed. She felt empty.

Words formed in the back of her throat, words she couldn’t quite speak. Could she possibly tell him how many times she put her hand on the phone, intending to call him, a split second before realizing he wouldn’t be on the other end of the line? Could she tell him about the times she walked into his office, hoping to feel just the barest hint of him? How many times she walked through the gate, and for the briefest of moments, wondered if they’d find him there, find that everything that happened had been one large joke, and take him home?

It had finally happened – on a random planet, without meaning to, they’d found him. And now? Now what? None of her fantasies had told her what to say to him once he was in front of her. Thoughts and emotions, things she had never acknowledged before, had swirled in her stomach for a year. She’d been afraid to give them a name even when he wasn’t there. Now that he was, she found herself at an even bigger loss for words.

She dreamed of him, even now; she dreamed of that planet, of his blue eyes staring at her as a stranger’s would. Only a stranger would have the gall – the courage – to ask a pointed question. Was there anything between us? Only the world, she thought, in her dreams, the only place she herself found the courage to answer.

The uncomfortable silence lasted for a minute, until the salesman returned with Daniel’s receipt. Once he’d stood up and turned away from her, she murmured under her breath, “I missed you.”

***

Their next stop was the gigantic mattress superstore – a warehouse approximately the size of Texas, with nothing but white fluffy squares as far as the eye could see. Sam shielded her eyes and looked off into the distance. "How do you choose?"

Daniel shrugged. "Look for a salesperson, I guess. How did you choose your bed?"

"Built it and bought it online."

"Oh. I bought my old one from an ad in the newspaper, someone getting rid of theirs when they moved." A beat. Then, in a slightly whiny voice, "I liked my old bed."

"I'm sure the college student we sold it to likes it just as well."

Daniel muttered under his breath, but Sam ignored him. She'd been in charge of selling his belongings, a job she never wanted to repeat for anyone she loved. An ad in the paper brought a family to her, proud parents with their nineteen year old daughter, getting her first apartment on campus. They bought the whole bedroom set – priced to move, as Sam had no energy to haggle over Daniel's belongings, but yet a very pricey housewarming gift. The day they brought the moving van over, Sam cheerfully helped them haul the furniture into the elevator and out the door. When they were gone, she sat in the middle of the empty bedroom and cried.

Sam rubbed her eyes, as Daniel flagged down a saleswoman. Soon, the woman was chattering about king versus queen size, the difference in brands, and would he be purchasing a headboard and frame, as well? Daniel answered her questions pleasantly, while Sam tuned out. Reason number 645 why she was not a normal female – major shopping expeditions bored the hell out of her.

The saleswoman left to retrieve paperwork while Daniel tested mattresses. Sam stood at the foot of one, amused, as he sat and bounced on the side. "Comfy enough for you?" she teased.

"Too soft. I'm afraid I'd fall in the middle and never get out." He moved to the next mattress, laying down in the middle. "I think I like this one." He scooted over to the left side. "See what you think."

She raised her eyebrows. "What, do you expect me to use your mattress, too?"

The old Daniel would have blushed at the inference. This one just patted the mattress next to him. "Come on, tell me what you think."

Sam hesitated, but only for a moment. She laid down on the bed next to him, folding her hands over her stomach and bouncing a little. “Very comfortable,” she agreed.

“Yeah, I think I’ll get this one. Now, the only question is, king or queen?”

“Depends? You expect to be sharing it with anyone in the near future?” Her tone was teasing, and she turned her head to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Hey, you could always ask the saleslady,” Sam giggled.

“What?”

“What, you didn’t notice her walking behind you through the store?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Better view of your ass.”

He finally blushed, and Sam was instantly more comfortable. This was her Daniel. Or, at least, a reasonable facsimile of him. He sat up. “You were walking behind me, too, Were you looking at my ass?”

She stretched her arms above her head. “I’ve seen your ass before. It’s very nice.” He blushed deeper, and Sam began to wonder at her own humor. Luckily, the saleswoman returned before she could contemplate the idea of tossing sexual innuendo at her best friend.

Daniel smiled at the saleswoman, and made a point of using her name – Beth – as he completed the transaction. By the time they were done, Beth had pressed her business card in his hand, urging him to call her “if he needed anything at all.” Sam found herself curled up in a chair, watching them with the barest hint of discomfort. Envy? She pushed the little voice in her head back into hiding. No, it was just more change. The Daniel she knew wasn’t terribly good at flirting. This one gave Beth a lingering touch on the shoulder – at least, it looked like it lingered to Sam – as he walked away.

They walked out of the store side by side, not speaking until they got to the car. “Can I drive?” Sam asked suddenly.

Daniel looked at her, shrugged, and tossed her the keys. “Can’t stand it, can you?” he teased.

“Old habits die hard.”

Daniel snorted and climbed into the passenger seat. Before Sam could sit down, though, he patted his pocket and cursed. “Dammit. I left my wallet in there!”

Sam held up her hand and handed him the keys. “I’ll go get it.”

She jogged back into the store. Immediately, Beth flagged her down. “Hey, I was hoping one of you would come back in here.” She held the wallet in her hand. “Your boyfriend left this.”

“Oh, thank god.” Sam smiled at her, before the comment sunk in. Boyfriend? Um, no. First, she firmly believed that once a person was over the age of thirty, the words boyfriend and girlfriend should be eliminated from their vocabulary. Second … this was Daniel. They weren’t … although, she could see where the woman would get that … She took the wallet. “He’d forget his head if it weren’t attached, I swear.” No need to correct her. She’d never see them again, anyway.

Besides, she thought uncharitably as she walked back to the car, if Beth would flirt that heavily with another woman’s boy … lov … partner … whatever, then she didn’t deserve to know the truth.

Daniel had not taken the driver’s seat back – he lounged in the passenger side, with the motor running and the radio playing softly. It was still tuned to the classic rock station, which made Sam smile. She handed him the wallet. “So, I hope you’re not planning on calling Beth for anything …”

“Huh?

“Never mind.”

“No, what?”

“Really, never mind.” She put the SUV in reverse – jesus, it was like driving a tank. “You know, Daniel, I’ve heard people say that men who drive really big cars are making up for something else.”

He rolled his eyes. “I thought that was little sports cars.”

“Those too.”

“So, what does it mean when a woman drives a little sports car? What is she compensating for?”

Sam looked sideways, to find Daniel smirking at her. She regretted not having anything handy to throw at him. She settled for smacking him in the arm. “I do not compensate. I can’t help it if men are threatened by my vehicles.”

“And your guns.”

“And my guns.” She sighed. There was more truth to the jokes than she cared to admit.

“Don’t worry, Sam, I’m not threatened by you.”

She looked over at him sharply, but he was staring out the window, so she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. She settled for rolling her eyes at the back of his head and turning up the radio.

 

***

Sam insisted on lunch at a new steakhouse just outside of the city. She and her brother had gone to the grand opening a few months earlier, and her mouth watered at the idea of a medium-well steak with all the trimmings. Daniel looked slightly annoyed at the choice, which Sam interpreted to be a money thing. “Hey, man, you said you’d buy me lunch,” she said, poking him (but fully intending to buy her own meal, anyway).

Daniel was silent as they sat down and ordered drinks, to the point where Sam was once again uncomfortable. Finally, she leaned on the table and stared him down. “What’s wrong?”

He fidgeted. “When did this place open?” he asked.

Avoiding the topic? “Um, about four months ago, I think?”

“Oh.” He fell silent again.

“Daniel?”

It took a few moments, but he finally spoke, without looking her in the eye. “I hate this sometimes, you know. Everything’s different.”

Sam blinked. “What? What’s different?”

“Little things. Stupid things. There used to be a used book store in this space. I came here every once in a while, found some interesting old books. Now, it’s a restaurant.”

“Oh.” Sam shrugged. “I wonder if the book store moved somewhere else?”

“That’s not the point.” He finally looked at her, and she found herself locked into an intense gaze that echoed a past conversation. “This world – places, people – spent the last year changing. I missed it all, and what’s worse, I can’t remember if I changed with it. I could just be the same person, plopped back into a changed world, a year behind the curve.”

“You’ve changed, Daniel. Trust me, you’ve changed.”

“How?”

She wanted to look away, gather her thoughts, but she couldn’t. “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just … in the way you move. The way you talk. Everything, and nothing at all.”

“I wish I could remember.” He looked down at the table, and Sam took a deep breath. “I’m lost, Sam, at least here on the outside. On the base, I’m fine. The SGC doesn’t change. I belong there. Out here, though, I’m back to having nothing. I’m reinventing myself all over again. I hate that. I always have.”

She reached out and placed her hand over his. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

He grasped her hand. “I feel kind of stupid, worrying so much about material things. They say home is where the … people you care about are, and I have that. It shouldn’t matter so much that I don’t have my bed any more. But, it does.”

Sam gazed at his profile, and suddenly saw the boy who was shuffled from foster home to foster home, the man who walked through the Stargate owning little more than the clothes on his back, the man who found and lost a home, a culture, and a family in the space of a year. She couldn’t imagine. Her life had always been grounded – there was always someone, someplace to run to when she felt lost. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he said automatically. He looked up. “You guys don’t talk about it that much. I notice that, you know.”

“Notice what?”

“You avoid talking about the past year when I’m around. You and Jack are the worst. You’ll start a thought, look at me, and the conversation will suddenly take a left turn. I know the world didn’t stop when I was gone. You don’t have to pretend it did.”

“It hurts!” she snapped. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“I want to know. I want to know everything. I want to hear all the details, all the stupid stuff. Maybe, then, I can occasionally fool myself into thinking I was here, that I remember the past year.”

“You don’t remember anything at all, do you?”

“Not a bit. I remember leaving, with Oma, and I remember waking up on that planet. That’s it.” He sighed, but managed a polite word for the waiter who brought their food. “You know, there are days when nothing seems familiar to me. Then, Jack will say something, or Teal’c will raise an eyebrow, and it will all be okay.”

“What about me?”

He pushed a piece of potato around on his plate before replying. “You’re different, Sam. Sometimes, you feel like the most familiar thing I’ve got. Sometimes, though …”

Sometimes, what, she wanted to ask. Sometimes it feels like you’re drowning in me? Sometimes it feels like we’ve lost the words to describe what we are to each other? Because, if so, join the club. “I know,” she said simply.

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. She could almost believe it would leave a scar. “I remembered you.”

“What?”

“When I saw you. I knew you. I knew you were someone to me. I didn’t know your name, or who you were, or who Jack or Teal’c were, but I knew you were important.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Thank you.” He looked surprised. She squeezed his hand, then pulled away to work on her own meal. “Hey, do you want to go over to the thrift store this afternoon? We donated some of your decorations to them – they might still have some, if we look hard enough.”

Daniel shrugged, a small smile on his face. “Sure, why not?”

They ate in companionable silence. Sam’s stomach still churned whenever their gazes met, but somehow, it was all right. It was good to get nervous about the important things.

***

The sun was setting by the time they drove back to Sam’s house. The thrift store had been a bust, but they’d amused themselves with a movie to make up for it. Sam sat in the passenger seat once again, clutching a half-eating bag of popcorn. (“Why do you always buy the extra large, Sam?” “Because nothing ever tastes as good as movie popcorn when I make it at home.”)

Daniel pulled up in front of the house and let the engine idle. “Thanks, Sam.”

“For what?”

“Coming with me today.”

She waved him off. “Right. Like I was going to do anything but sit in my house and contemplate balancing my checkbook.”

“Still, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She reached for the door handle, then turned back to him. “You got delivery on all that stuff, right? You’re not going to make me haul furniture up the stairs?”

He laughed, a low, open sound that caught Sam right in the gut. She’d missed his laugh. She’d missed it all. “No, I promise, no hauling.”

“Besides, it’s Jack and Teal’c’s turn.”

“Exactly.”

A pause. She made the mistake of looking him straight in the eyes again. He held everything in his eyes, always had. At that moment, she could spot fear, gratitude, friendship … and danger. The half smile on his face told her that he was aware of the danger he posed, on some level. She’d been right to suspect this new Daniel.

A wild urge popped into her brain. She took a moment to deflect it into something mostly harmless, before leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “Good night, Daniel.” She was gratified to see the red spread across his cheeks under the dome light when she opened the door. She closed the door before he could respond, and stood in the yard, watching the tail lights of the SUV as they disappeared around the corner.

She fairly buzzed with electricity. Sam grinned. In the end, hadn’t she always been a danger junkie?

***

Another day off, another early morning phone call.

“Sam? What do I have to bribe you with to get you to help me paint?”

She nestled the phone between her ear and the pillow, and pulled the covers up around her. She smiled to herself. His voice sounded right, first thing in the morning.


End file.
